


Aziraphale's Delivery Service

by Sorchakitty



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is a witch, Crowley is his familiar, Crowley's language might get a little coarse, Other, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), They/Them Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), tartan bows are stylish, this is the most wholesome thing i've ever written
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-07-31 08:09:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20111896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorchakitty/pseuds/Sorchakitty
Summary: All witches are expected to leave home after their 13th birthday to train for a year. Aziraphale leaves home with his familiar, Crowley the black snake, draped over his shoulders. Ready for adventure but uncertain of his path, Zira settles down in a new town and opens a courier service.





	1. Leaving Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my first attempt at fan fiction in... quite awhile. Lots of love and a big thank you to [GentleHell](https://gentlehell.tumblr.com/) for beta-reading and acting as a sounding board for my ideas. I hope you are all as tickled by the idea of a young Zira flying around on a broom with snake Crowley as I am!

“I can’t see what’s so bad about traveling on a train, anyway. It is our first trip after all.” Crowley grumbled.

Zira smiled, careful to do so while his back was to his friend. “Well it must be bad, otherwise that’s how we would travel. Tradition exists for reason, my dear.”

“Aziraphale, don’t forget to pack plenty of spare underwear.” His familiar advised Zira from their chosen spot on the window ledge.

The young witch jumped to his feet and ran to his dresser. Excitement was still coursing through him, making him so jittery it was hard to focus. He’d been gathering his things for the last hour and this was the third or fourth time Crowley had reminded him of something essential. Today was the day, they were leaving home.

It had been ten days since his thirteenth birthday, and Zira had been waiting for a spell of fair weather just like this. Father, knowing how excited he was, had generously allowed him to hold on to his small radio day and night, checking the weather report every hour while he worked with Mother and did his chores. He was surprised at how much the idea of leaving it behind disappointed him – he’d grown rather fond of having close by.

Zira rolled the clean spares into tidy bundles – Crowley’s idea, they really were very clever when it came to packing – and placed them in the duffel bag next to his clean socks. He silently lamented the sparsity of his wardrobe, but Mother had taught him years ago that this would be part of his apprenticeship. Young witches all left home when they turned thirteen, settling down in new cities for one year and wearing only clothes dyed a particular shade of dark blue. He thought the color was rather ill-suited for him, but it was tradition after all.

He checked his reflection in the mirror one last time, only looking for a few heartbeats so as to minimize the likelihood of Crowley’s teasing. Fair skinned like his mother, Zira had her blue eyes but Father’s white-blonde hair. He had always rather liked how he looked, but he worried that the combination of dark color of his dress with his pale complexion left him looking a bit peaked. Even though the color left him a bit worried, he was very pleased with how well his hard work had paid off. The dress was cut simply but still flattering, and most importantly the pocket sewed into the breast was practically invisible.

Crowley, as always able to read him no matter how he tried to mask his thoughts, chuckled and said “You look splendid, don’t worry so much.”

Zira’s face lit up in a brilliant smile as he turned to his friend. All witches were given familiar at birth, and he had been lucky enough to be paired with Crowley. The serpent was coiled up in a patch of sun on the windowsill. The sunlight brought out the strong highlights of red in the black scales along their spine. Just like Zira, Crowley was still growing, at just over eighteen inches after their last molting.

Golden eyes narrowed as the serpent returned to their complaints. “Train tickets don’t cost much, the grown-ups could give them as gift.”

Deliberately dancing around what he knew was bothering Crowley, Zira shrugged. “It’s tradition. My ancestors decided on it hundreds of generations ago. And since they didn’t seem to have any writing tools to leave us clues, we might never know why. But we follow them anyways, it’s –“

“Are you going to say ineffable?” Crowley interrupted with a flick of their tongue.

“Maybe.” Zira’s blue eyes lowered to the floor, one foot scuffing against the wood. He’d found the word in a book over six months ago and had been immediately taken with it. Ever since then the witch had been trying it out here and there, searching for something he could use it with in conversation.

Crowley had appointed themselves as judge over these trials, ruling out every attempt thus far. They chuckled softly. “I don’t think so, better luck next time perhaps.”

Zira smiled sheepishly before swiftly returning to the surprise he’d been setting up for the last twenty minutes. “You’ve never minded flying before, don’t tell me… you’re afraid?”

The serpent lifted his head with a hiss, if they’d had hackles they would’ve been _bristling_. “I fly better than any snake I’ve met, I’m not afraid of a little _gravity_.”

“Then what seems to be the problem, dear boy?” The serpent tucked their head back into his coils, their reply coming out muffled.

“What was that?”

“I said it’ll be cold,” Crowley enunciated, tongue flickering with irritation. They sighed. “We’ve never flown that high for that long, I am cold-blooded you know.”

Zira nodded slowly as if considering it. “The thought had occurred to me –”

“Good, then we can ask Mother to buy a train ticket.”

Zira crossed the room and continued as if Crowley hadn’t interrupted him. “So that’s why I helped Mother sew pockets in the breast of every dress and jacket we made. Just the thing for keeping cold-blooded familiars nice and toasty at high altitudes.”

Crowley lifted their head, their gold eyes flicking first to Zira’s face and then to the fabric of his new dress. Their entire body quivered with emotion the familiar was too stubborn to voice. As soon as Zira extended a hand, Crowley uncoiled and wound their way quickly up the young witch’s arm. Grinning, Zira watched his friend find the hidden pocket with their nose and then quickly slip inside with a soft exclamation of delight.

Zira had been planning this for months and Crowley’s reaction did not disappoint. Feeling his friend’s weight over his heart as they got comfortable, Zira knelt down and zipped up his duffel bag. As he stood and swung it over his shoulder, careful to choose the side opposite to Crowley, the serpent’s muffled voice came from inside his dress.

“Oh yes, this will do quite nicely. Thank you angel.” Zira had deemed himself too old for the pet name at the venerable age of five and after several uncharacteristic fits the adults had abandoned it – as always the serpent was the exception to the rule. He stroked the Crowley shaped lump in the front of his dress. Mother had been right, it did ruin the lines a bit, but it was worth it. “You’re very welcome my dear.”

Crowley poked their head out of the pocket, this time joining his friend in admiring their reflection. The two of them looked quite fine, Zira thought. The serpent’s scales shining black with just a hint of red over large golden eyes, the witch’s face alight with excitement. He straightened the tartan bow at the collar of his dress and then ran a brush through his short curls until they gleamed.

“Do you think people in our new home will like us?” He asked the serpent.

“Oh yes,” even though their face didn’t move much, the witch knew Crowley was smiling.

“I don’t think any of them have the slightest clue what they’re in for.”

Before he could tell his friend that his words were a just a _touch_ ominous, Father’s voice call to them from down on the lawn. Jumping, Zira pushed the hairbrush into his bag and then scurried downstairs to say his farewells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that’s the first chapter :) this whole project literally came out of nowhere but it’s been a lot of fun. It all started in a Discord server, when we were throwing around ideas about Mahou Shoujo Good Omens. Sketches were shared (they are my new happy place), I can’t draw but I started pondering over writing some descriptions. Card Captor Sakura, Madoka, Yuki Yuna and Sailor Moon (Crowley as Seiya!) all came up.
> 
> And then I wondered “What about Aziraphale’s Delivery Service”? We all loved the idea, Crowley as a snake familiar and Aziraphale wearing a tartan bow was a cuteness overload. Without consulting me my muse jumped ship from my OC project and demanded that I start outlining the story. When I got home from work the next day I sat down at my computer and put out this chapter in a couple hours!
> 
> I’m using the movie for a rough guideline but I have all kinds of unexpected head canon for Kiki’s now and so I’ll be expanding on, like a longer timeline, Zira doing more magic and making familiars a little more magical. I’ve got an outline written out for about the first half of the movie — not even exaggerating I have at least three notes on my phone dedicated to this now — so my goal is to at least get there (hopefully further!). Chapter 2 is about 75% done but I’ve come down with a cold so finishing the last of it is slow going. I write by dictating to speech recognition software (no bueno with a sore throat).
> 
> This note certainly turned out longer that I intended, but I just have to thank my fellow asylum inmates in Art School Dropouts for helping me think of this idea, I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t have happened without our shenanigans <3 <3 <3


	2. Take Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After writing the first chapter, I did not expect this one to the four times longer, but these two are so much fun that before I realized it they'd completely taken over XD. Please enjoy chapter 2!

As expected, Zira’s parents tried to cajole him into staying one more night, even his mother (as a witch she really ought to know better). His friends from the town hugged him so tightly that Crowley begrudgingly surrendered their new pocket to take up a less… crowded position coiled around their friend’s neck. Normally such infringement would’ve earned ominous threats, but the serpent was feeling positively magnanimous with the promise of their new adventure. They even deigned to touch the outstretched hands with their snout when they said goodbye.

Zira was doing quite well until Father tried to press some money and his hands. It was against tradition so he was obligated to refuse – so of course Crowley accepted on his behalf while the witch was wiping his eyes, squirreling it away in their pocket before their friend took notice.

Even though they were eager to leave, Zira didn’t rush through his goodbyes. Knowing how much the young witch would miss their family and friends, Crowley didn’t push him beyond two or three – oh all right it was definitely four – tickles with their tongue against Zira’s cheek. They were surprised and pleased when Zira didn’t linger after he had spoken with everyone.

And hugged his parents one last time, of course.

“Aziraphale,” Mother spoke softly as Zira picked up his broom. “Are you quite sure you don’t want to take my broom? I’d feel better if you were flying so far with something a bit more tested and true, dear.”

“I’ll be alright, I’m sure of it,” he said with confidence, swinging his leg over the broom. “It’s tradition, you know.”

“Tradition isn’t law, my darling,” she replied, but she smiled and inclined her head in a gesture of acquiescence.

_Oh yes, _now_ you tell him, _Crowley thought wryly.

Leaning down to kiss his cheek, Mother stroked a hand gently over Crowley’s scales before moving to stand with the rest of their small audience. Zira paused to give him a chance to reach his pocket but Crowley declined, making sure he had a secure grip on his current perch at his witch’s neck. There was no way they were going to miss the beginning of their adventure – besides, it wouldn’t get uncomfortably cold until they’re up a few hundred feet and the winds picked up.

“Okay, here I go!” Zira said, putting both hands on the broom.

Crowley could feel magic racing through the witch like a current as he concentrated, channeling power and focus into his broom. After a few seconds, Zira bent his knees and jumped. The broom did the rest of the work, continuing their path upwards until they were thirty feet in the air. When they stopped and held steady instead of dropping the onlookers burst into cheers.

Calls of farewell and requests for letters from their new home drifted up to them, along with no fewer than three admonitions for caution from Father.

“Goodbye, I’ll miss you!” Zira said, his voice filled with such infectious joy that Crowley echoed after him with their own goodbye.

“Ready Crowley?” Their witch asked.

“I was born ready, angel.” They said with no small amount of serpentine cockiness. The boy on the broom laughed and, after one last wave to his parents, then they were off. Together they soared through the sky just as they had been born to, witch and familiar.

For about fifteen feet.

Suddenly the broom beneath them juked right before sending them spinning off to the left, Zira’s feet just barely brushing the first tree they passed. They crashed into the branches of two more trees, filling the air with a merry chorus of bells. They continued ringing even as Zira brought the broom under control with a firm smack.

Without needing to look, Crowley knew their witch would be red as a tomato. Lifting their head, they brushed their nose against his chin. “Well done.”

Zira sighed. “I had so hoped to leave home smoothly. Not exactly an encouraging display, was it my dear?”

Crowley’s tongue flicked out in a silent laugh. “Nonsense, I’m sure your parents remember the first time you rode a broom – it’d be hard to forget when you can still see where they patched the hole in the side of the garden shed. You’ve improved immensely.”

On the ground, in the company of other people, Zira would’ve smiled and changed the subject as if his embarrassment was a trifling matter. Up here, with only the wind in his familiar, the young witch allowed himself a groan and hung his head. Crowley knew without looking that his witch was smiling, the worst of his embarrassment blunted by their joke.

Crowley slid across Zira’s shoulder to look down at the countryside. “Have you decided where we’re going yet?”

Zira nodded, immediately warming to the subject. “East. The maps I found at the library showed more towns and cities that way so we’ll have a better chance of finding a place for us.”

“What kind of house should I be in the lookout for?” That was always their role; Zira steered while Crowley acted as a lookout. The serpent examined the shrinking house beneath them. They had never realized how small it really was.

“We don’t need much, do we? Just somewhere comfy and dry – although I suppose a real bathroom would be _quite _nice.” Zira said thoughtfully. “I should think the best idea would be to look at neighborhoods instead of houses.”

“Neighborhoods?”

“One or two cafés, somewhere with friendly people that feels homey and welcoming. I’m still learning how to cook so until my menu improves it would be nice for us to have a treat now and then. And… a library, yes, that would do quite nicely.” Crowley curved around Zira’s shoulder in time to see the wistful look in their witch’s eyes. “Our library was so limited so I’m sure there’ll be new things for me to read.”

“Is it possible they could have texts on witchcraft?” Crowley asked.

Zira lit up with his best smile. “The thought hadn’t even occurred to me, but it’s definitely possible. Especially if we manage to find a bigger city!”

The serpent reviewed Zira’s list. “Cafés, libraries, no pits in the yard acting as outhouses.”

That startled a laugh out of the boy and he shook his head. “Really, the things you say sometimes. We’ll have to be careful about that when we get to our new home.”

“You mean _I’ll _have to be careful, I don’t think you could say the wrong thing if you tried.”

Zira grinned and lifted one hand from the broom handle as if to reach for them, but the broom wobbled dangerously and he immediately put it back down. Crowley moved back towards his neck, nosing the boy’s skin to let him know they were proud of how quickly he managed it. Zira nodded but didn’t try to reach for them again. “What about you? What kind of place do you want to live in, my dear?”

“A garden,” the serpent answered promptly. “Somewhere with a lot of green that’s always in the sun, like Mother’s greenhouse. Maybe even big enough that small animals attempt to come in for a nibble.”

The witch shook his head. “Really Crowley, you don’t need to eat mice – you eat what I eat for heaven’s sake!”

“Variety is the spice of life, angel. I am a snake after all.” Crowley said gently but without apology. “Besides, I never do such things when you can see them.” Tilting his head, Zira brushed his cheek against Crowley’s scales in acknowledgment of the serpent’s consideration.

They doubted there could be a gentler soul anywhere else in the world than their witch. Even though the idea of small animals as meals distressed him, Zira had never been able to hold such things against them. Gentle prodding towards alternatives (ideally ones that resulted in no pain for anything) was the most he ever managed. It was, in their less than humble opinion, the defining trait that would make him such a fine witch.

Crowley began sliding down the front of Zira’s dress, moving towards the duffel bag and away from the sensitive subject. “Do you suppose the small cafés will have music?”

Zira laughed. “I’m sure we can find one or two with good radios.”

“What about one of those boxes we saw in the magazine on Father’s desk, the one that lets you select a song for a penny?” They asked, excitement coloring their voice for the first time.

“If we find a town with a bit more people than our village it’s definitely a possibility,” the boy said thoughtfully. Crowley could hear the smile in his voice when he asked “music is your favorite thing about humans, isn’t it?”

The serpent hummed an agreement, answering the familiar question with an equally familiar reply “right after you, yes.”

Zira chuckled as Crowley nosed their way into the duffel bag. They felt the witch jump slightly when their tail followed them into the bag, the broom weaving as he made a quick reach for his familiar. When he realized Crowley was in the bag and not falling, Zira straightened them out. He really was getting quicker each time.

“What are you doing in there my dear?”

Crowley didn’t answer, searching for the prize they’d hidden under one of Zira’s spare outfits. Immensely pleased with themselves, the serpent carefully maneuvered the radio out of the bag and carried it past Zira towards the far end of the broom handle.

“Where on earth did you get that?” The boy demanded with a laugh.

“I liberated it,” was all they would say. A familiar couldn’t give away all their secrets.

“But it’s Father’s!”

“Yes it was, now it’s ours.” They hung the strap over the broom handle and switched it on. “If we’re going to travel then we’ll do it in style.”

“When we get settled you’re going to help me write a letter as an apology, and we will send a new one for his birthday once we’re earning.” Zira said firmly as Crowley wound their way up his arm.

They slid into their pocket with a noise of agreement as music drifted up from the radio.

_Ooh love ooh loverboy_  
_What’re you doin’ tonight, hey boy_  
_ Set my alarm, turn on my charm_  
_ That’s because I’m a good old-fashioned lover boy_

Crowley settled against the warmth of Zira’s chest, shifting themselves around so they could poke their head out and enjoy the view. Letting their head rest against Zira’s shoulder, the serpent looked down at the patchwork of greens, gold’s and the occasional ribbon of blue passing by. Tilting their head to the side, they could see Zira out of the corner of one eye.

“Can we get a nice, wide rock to put in our garden?”

Their witch smiled. “Of course, where else would you nap?”

Crowley chuckled softly – they never doubted that Zira knew them better than anyone in the world ever could, but it was nice to be reminded now and then. “What kind of restaurants would you like best?”

Zira launched into a long, winding trail of speculation about the different types of food they might find, both those they had actually eaten and the things they had only read about. Crowley, as always, was happy to listen. And so time passed, as it always did between the serpent and their witch, at once swiftly and slowly. An ideal afternoon faded smoothly into an ideal evening. Whenever they moved out of range of a radio station, Crowley would move the dial without moving from their pocket.

They watched the ever-changing landscape beneath them as the young witch alternated between hopes and guesses about their new home. Some of Zira’s musings were about the people he hoped to meet, but most of them centered on what kind of books he hoped to find in libraries, wondering what kinds of new cuisine would be waiting for them. The serpent enjoyed food as much as the next person, but they had never really met anyone who could come close to the level of enthusiasm that Zira always mustered for meals – and books course.

It was one of his greatest charms — he could create a long, meandering path with his thoughts that whiled away hours without notice. When you finally looked at the clock and realized the hour, it never felt like time wasted. It was one of Crowley’s favorite ways to pass the time, although they rarely said as much quite so plainly. Warm and comfortable in their pocket, with Zira’s heartbeat steady against their coils, the serpent found it almost as enjoyable as the countless times they’d acted as his audience while basking in the sun.

Even Zira himself wasn’t immune to his own effect. The last of the sun’s light was a few fading layers of orange and pale blue on the horizon when they felt the witch finally take notice of the time. He shook his head. “Why didn’t you tell me, you wily thing?”

“Why would I? I was rather enjoying your idea for a bakery that’s attached to a cafe — maybe we could even bring in musicians.”

“I thought familiars were supposed to keep an eye on us, keep things on track and the like,” Zira laughed.

“I never saw anything about that in the handbook,” Crowley scoffed as Zira took them a little lower. Their witch stroked a finger over the scales of their head and neck absently in reply.

If the serpent had possessed hands, they would’ve patted themselves on the back. Over the past few hours, distracted by the plethora of possibilities, Zira had stopped concentrating so hard and relaxed – they hadn’t wobbled in at least two hours. The fact that he had also forgotten to worry about choosing a specialty was just icing on the cake.

“Are you tired, my dear? I still feel quite alert so perhaps we could keep going for a little longer.”

“As long as you’re up to it and not feeling drowsy,” they answered with a verbal shrug.

They were still flying over countryside, passing towns not much larger than their own. New to night flying, they both enjoyed how pretty everything looked, lit up like holiday lights. It was almost enough to make them fly right past another witch without noticing. Crowley only caught a flash of red from her hair because of how their head rested on Zira’s shoulder.

Crowley touched their nose to Zira’s cheek, waiting until the boy looked at them to direct his attention to their new companion. The boy immediately lifted a hand and called out to get the girl’s attention. She looked over just in time to see the broom wobble as Zira quickly moved closer.

“Good evening!” He called with a warm smile.

The girl returned the smile with considerably less sincerity. Crowley guessed that she was about the same age as Zira, although the way she held herself and the gold jewelry at her ears and neck made her seem older. Her thick red hair was parted neatly into two braids, somehow managing to stay immaculate despite the wind. Balanced on the broom in front of her was a sleek black cat that didn’t even glance in their direction.

“Good evening,” she offered with a prim nod. ”Just leaving home?”

“Yes. My name is Zira, pleased to meet you to meet you.”

“Carmine, pleasure,” she said, looking over Zira in quick assessment. ”Would you mind turning off that radio? I prefer to fly without being distracted.”

“Oh yes, of course,” The broom dipped sharply as he reached for it, threatening to tip him completely off it. Crowley turned it off with a flick of their tongue as Zira straightened them out.

Realizing that Carmine couldn’t see them, Crowley slid out of the pocket, circling Zira’s shoulders as they examined the new witch. They cared not one bit for her dismissive tone, nor the way she lifted her hand to her mouth – was that a smile? – when Zira’s control wavered. The cat hadn’t even acknowledged him yet.

That was to be expected, it _was_ a cat after all.

Their witch, thrown by the girl’s unfriendly nature, was unusually hesitant with his words when he asked “Er, could you tell me – is it very hard to get settled into a brand new city?”

Carmine’s proud lift of her chin perfectly matched that of her familiar. “Oh yes, a lot can go wrong, but since my skill is fortune telling I can handle anything.”

“Fortune telling?”

Her braids moved – a nod? “Yes, I tell fortunes about love.”

“Wow.” Zira said wistfully.

Pleased by the awe in his voice, she tossed her head proudly, the movement given away by her braids and a soft jingle from her earrings. The cat echoed her sentiment with an imperious _mrrrow_.

_Cats_, Crowley grumbled to themselves.

“And what exactly is your skill?” She asked after a short pause. Crowley had thought she was still basking in the boy’s admiration. They suppressed a sigh of irritation and silently wished they’d met this jumped-up snob in daylight. It would be easier to tell when these barbs were coming.

Unable to fidget with both hands on the broom, Zira could only duck his chin when her question landed squarely in a vulnerable area. “Um, well, I haven’t really decided that yet.”

If she was surprised it didn’t affect her tone. “Ah well I’m nearly finished with my training period, I’ll be going home soon to show off my new skills.”

Carmine pointed to Zira’s far side. “That’s my town down there.”

Crowley glanced to the right, it was certainly bigger – and brighter – than home. The noise and seemingly countless colorful lights seemed garish, like a Christmas tree that splurged on birthday money. They started to wind their way down Zira’s arm, briefly envious of Zira’s ability to wrinkle his nose – what was _that _awful smell?

Zira was too impressed to notice the smell. “It’s so big.”

“Yes, to you I’m sure it looks b-“

Crowley had had enough, finally making themselves known as they secured themselves around his wrist. “And I suppose the _smell _is just a matter of our poor, inexperienced country noses too.”

Carmine jumped, even more rewarding was the cat breaking it silence with a startled hiss, and asked “What is _that_?”

“This is Crowley, they’re my familiar.” Zira’s tone held the promise of reprimand later for the serpent’s lack of manners.

“Is that a _snake_?”

“Well, yes.” His confusion mirrored Crowley’s, but he obligingly held out his hand as Carmine drifted closer. The broom didn’t so much as wiggle.

Crowley saved up a compliment for later, they didn’t want to hear Carmine’s opinion on it.

With less than three feet between them now, it was easy to see their wide eyes and shocked expressions. “But… what sort of witch doesn’t have a cat?”

Zira’s confusion quickly sharpened itself into a rare flash of temper. “Not _all_ witches have cats!”

“All the ones we’ve ever heard of certainly do.” Carmine said with a sniff, finally schooling her face to something closer to calm.

Not for the first time Crowley wished nature had gifted them with something more threatening – a hood or rattle would’ve been nice.

The cat finally broke her silence. “Maybe he was raised in some kind of hovel. No self-respecting cat would allow itself to be assigned to a hovel.”

The opinions of others had rarely matter to them and on most days Crowley would’ve been content, happy even, to trade barbs with these two. But their words were hurting Zira, and that was something the serpent would never tolerate. Baring their fangs with a hiss, Crowley feinted a lunge at them. As intended, the girl yelped and swerved away.

She dipped again when her cat started slipping off her broom and she scrambled to catch the yowling ball of fur. Crowley, safe and secure on Zira’s arm, made sure to laugh as loud as they could so she wouldn’t miss it.

Carmine straightened herself out and began circling back towards her smelly town. “Well, I’d love to stay and get to know you better, but I’m afraid duty calls. Ciao!”

“Good night!” Zira called, but his heart wasn’t in it.

Their witch, knowing Crowley was already starting to feel the chill, touched his shoulder with his hand so Crowley could reach their pocket. They waited until Carmine disappeared into the harsh colors of the town before slipping in gratefully. They knew they were cold but they didn’t _feel_ it, probably because their anger felt like fire.

As they arranged themselves into comfortable coils, Zira brooded in silence – the most un-Zira-like thing he’d ever done. When they were settled they poked their nose out and said “We should sleep soon, but nowhere too close. Don’t want to drift off with the smell and snobbery in the air.”

Zira’s breath left him in a barely audible chuckle, but he didn’t smile. When he stroked a finger over Crowley’s scales they tried another approach. “Did you notice that’s the third time you’ve moved your hand without wobbling?”

Blue eyes widened, realization spreading across Zira’s face like a sunrise. The broom didn’t waver and Zira continued petting the underside of Crowley’s jaw – almost as if he was proving a point to himself. The familiar hummed under their breath, pride spreading through their body the light of a summer’s afternoon. It didn’t erase his hurt, but it did dull the edges. With one last glance at the town, Zira oriented himself by the stars and flew east.

Several minutes passed as Crowley waited for their witch to speak. When he didn’t, they gently asked “do you want to talk about it, angel?”

“Mm-hmm.”

The answer didn’t fill them with much confidence but they knew better than to press Zira. He would talk to Crowley soon, he just needed to mull it over first. The serpent settled their head on his shoulder and cast a baleful glare at Carmine’s town.

The pool of lights had shrunk by half when Zira finally spoke “Crowley?

“Yes?”

To their chagrin, Zira didn’t want to discuss his conversation with Carmine. “Why the show? You’ve never bitten anyone before, you haven’t even joked about it in years.”

“That little harpy and her furry ponce don’t know that. And for those two I might’ve made an exception if they’d been in reach.” They sniffed. “I was hoping at least one of them would get dumped off the broom but her reflexes were, regretfully, too quick.”

Zira chuckled softly, running his fingertips over Crowley’s scales. “When did you become such a fiend?”

Crowley harrumphed softly. “I’ve always been one, I just save it for slags like that.”

“Really, Crowley!” Zira’s admonishment was somewhat dampened by his laughter.

The serpent allowed themselves a mental pat on the back. Zira hadn’t forgotten Carmine’s hurtful questions, but they’d at least blunted the edge. The rest could be dealt with when their witch was ready to discuss it. Relaxing once again on his shoulder, Crowley turned the radio back on with a flick of their tongue.

_You've got your mother in a whirl 'cause she's_  
_Not sure if you're a boy or a girl_  
_ Hey babe, your hair's alright_  
_ Hey babe, let's stay out tonight_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't figure out a way to put it in without seeming forced but her cat's name is War.
> 
> The original intention was for this chapter to end at the train, but that's because I underestimated how easily Crowley's voice would come to me – and apparently I could write about them flying around just the two of them forever. So I decided to create a pause point and go back to Zira in chapter 3. I'm going to probably swap back and forth between them, unless a certain event demands one of them specifically.
> 
> I'm also not going to follow the movie step for step, the only time I have thus far is with the conversation with Carmine (she just doesn't have a personality that easily lends itself to a conversation without bloodshed) and it was _hard_. It almost killed my momentum so in the future I'm going to stick to keeping things in the spirit of, rather than the letter of, the movie.
> 
> Any comments or kudos are always appreciated <3

**Author's Note:**

> So that’s the first chapter :) this whole project literally came out of nowhere but it’s been a lot of fun. It all started in a Discord server, when we were throwing around ideas about Mahou Shoujo Good Omens. Sketches were shared (they are my new happy place), I can’t draw but I started pondering over writing some descriptions. Card Captor Sakura, Madoka, Yuki Yuna and Sailor Moon (Crowley as Seiya!) all came up. 
> 
> And then I wondered “What about Aziraphale’s Delivery Service”? We all loved the idea, Crowley as a snake familiar and Aziraphale wearing a tartan bow was a cuteness overload. Without consulting me my muse jumped ship from my OC project and demanded that I start outlining the story. When I got home from work the next day I sat down at my computer and put out this chapter in a couple hours!
> 
> I’m using the movie for a rough guideline but I have all kinds of unexpected head canon for Kiki’s now and so I’ll be expanding on, like a longer timeline, Zira doing more magic and making familiars a little more magical. I’ve got an outline written out for about the first half of the movie — not even exaggerating I have at least three notes on my phone dedicated to this now — so my goal is to at least get there (hopefully further!). Chapter 2 is about 75% done but I’ve come down with a cold so finishing the last of it is slow going. I write by dictating to speech recognition software (no bueno with a sore throat).
> 
> This note certainly turned out longer that I intended, but I just have to thank my fellow asylum inmates in Art School Dropouts for helping me think of this idea, I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t have happened without our shenanigans <3 <3 <3


End file.
